Drowning
by Unhappy Creatures
Summary: All Clint had to do was escort Prince Prissy Pants to a secret location, until Father changed his mind. Of course, nothing ever went as planned, and now they were stuck having to work together in order to survive. An arrangement which made death actually preferable. Clint hated his life, Loki hated everything, and SHIELD had no idea what on earth was going on. Slight Clint/Loki.


**A/N: **This is the first time I'm using FF and I apologise if I did something horrible to the formatting. We live to learn. :)

* * *

First, they were falling. And then Clint was drowning.

By the time Clint managed to focus his head to pick through the flurry of images and sensations, his lungs started burning and he almost, almost, breathed in and let go. But, he was a trained soldier, he knew what it felt like to be drowning. He knew what it felt like to be dying. He forced himself from spasming, spread his arms wide and swam, let the buoyancy of the water lead his way. And the moment he felt air on his skin, hot and salty, he opened his mouth wide and just heaved, his throat raspy, his eyes burning with the salt and the bright sun.

He looked around himself, jerking left and right. There were things floating in the blue water, scraps and boxes, unrecognisable leftovers from the crash. It was hard to see from the sun reflecting in the waves and blinding his eyes, but there was no sign of anyone around him. The pilot was gone, and so was Loki.

Or so Clint thought, because a second later he was certain he heard something. "Hello?" he yelled, turning that way. "Anyone there?" The answer came in the form of a muffled cry, hidden under the bubbles of a person desperate to stay afloat and failing. Without a second thought, Clint dove in, squinting his eyes and trying to get the best from the blurry water. Turns out, he didn't even have to bother. There was a body, not that far away, surrounded by a sluggish dark cloud that meant only one thing - blood.

Clint swam as fast as he could, hugging the person and pulling them out. And even by then it was obvious who this was. Loki. And he looked a paler shade of himself. Clint held him, regardless of his feelings towards him ( he had plenty of those and neither were remotely nice). Loki seemed limp, unmoving and Clint pushed the black hair away from that face to check for life signs. The skin around Loki's eyes and lips was turning that distinctive shade of blue that meant too much blood loss.

"Gorgeous," Clint said to himself.

"Well, forgive me for ruining your week." The reply startled him enough that he almost let go of Loki. Then he noticed those lids opening and Loki looking at him with something Clint connected with the near delirious state of a dying man.

But of course Loki would be more stubborn than that. Than to do them all a favour and finally die for once.

"Well, if there are sharks around here, it's not just my week you ruined," he had to bite back. The water around them was definitely darker, that specific black tinge of red mixing with blue. It looked morbid but Clint knew blood stained water a lot worse than it seemed. There was challenge in the green eyes, but Loki didn't respond. "Please, tell me Asgardians can swim."

Loki made a very faint sound but he didn't try to pull away. "First of all, I'm not an Asgardian," he said with so much loathing Clint knew this idiot was going to be just fine. "And second, I would if I could move my arm."

"You hurt?"

"A redundant question, don't you think?"

"Fine." Clint rolled his eyes. "If you want to be a prick, I'll just leave you here to drown." Clint didn't. Not because Loki apologised or anything. The man just tensed, his weak body betraying his pride and actually showing he was desperate. Which was enough for Clint. He didn't expect Loki to actually speak and admit the errors of his ways, did he now? Or ever, really. "There's land nearby," he said then, holding Loki with one arm and trying to swim towards the wreckage with another. Worth trying to find anything to save themselves. "Jim was trying to land us there," he added.

"North from here, yes," Loki whispered, and his voice was much more quiet than a second earlier, eyes lazier and pupils slightly dilated. At first, he was gripping at Clint's arm with one of his hands, but even though Clint felt the hand still there, it wasn't doing much of anything. Which meant Clint had to waste more energy on holding Loki than on actual swimming, effectively prolonging their stay in the water. Worst of all, he could already feel the strain of his backpack, the weight of it pulling him under water. But he wasn't letting go of that one. It contained an emergency kit with enough food rations to last them a few days. Without it, they'd probably be dead.

If they didn't die right here, devoured by some beast from the deep. If Loki were to be trusted about the sharks, that didn't mean there were not other things that could harm them. Like the currents, because if the currents carried them South, they were indeed in deep shit.

"You have the map of entire Earth in your head?" Clint asked. He could hear Loki produce a small chuckle, but that just got water into his mouth and he started coughing. "Hey, don't die on me, buddy." Partly, Clint regretted saying this, because this was Loki and Clint hated Loki. But Loki was also his charge for this mission and if there was something Clint hated more than Loki, it was losing those he signed to take care for.

"I am most certainly not going to die," Loki whispered. It was obvious he was fighting with the last fibre of his body to remain conscious and this was nothing short of his big mouth actually keeping him there. "Nor am I your buddy." Clint snorted. The feeling was certainly mutual there. "And why is being a hole an insult on this wretched place?" Clint couldn't help himself from laughing now but there was no response coming from Loki and all he could do now was grip that body and swim.

* * *

They made it, eventually. Clint had no idea how exactly, but they did. By the time he could actually see the land, the sun had already been setting behind the horizon and reaching it required the inhuman amount of effort he didn't even know he had in him. Loki would wake up here and there, always ready to snap a remark or two, but generally he was being still and quiet, sometimes actually using his healthy hand to help and keep himself afloat. But most importantly, he was quiet. Clint didn't know whether the man was just thankful or afraid Clint would let him drown otherwise.

Considering Loki had had the first row ticket to Clint's mind not too long ago, Clint was dreading the answer to that one. It was better not knowing.

Once they reached the shore, Loki was luckily sentient enough to fight his own fight. Clint was certain he would have been unable to hold him otherwise, drag them both through the shallow waters and onto the dry land. Golgi reflex. Back in the day, they'd exercised a lot in the attempt to postpone it, but Clint knew enough about human anatomy to bother kidding himself.

In retrospect, he wondered whether Asgardian anatomy was similar, because right now Loki was once again passed out, pale and sickly looking. The gash on his arm looked purplish and swollen, but that had more to do with them being in water for hours than an infection. Thank god there really weren't any sharks around.

Clint knew, he'd have to give Loki a thorough examination. There was no way he'd lost so much blood due to that gash. And there was also no way Clint was undressing their resident god of thunder's little brother while he was passed out on a beach in the middle of fucking nowhere. Clint had never been struck by lightning before, and he certainly did not wish to have that experience in his belt.

He was leaving that for tomorrow, when his hands would maybe even obey him. Right now, it seemed too much to just turn Loki onto his side, into a recovery position, but once he managed (slowly, so slowly), he noticed dried blood at the back of his head. At least a bump to the head explained why he was in such a bad shape. Clint really hoped the man wasn't going to die. There wasn't much he could do right now. Any kind of infection or a brain edema and Loki was as good as dead to them. Which brought him back to the lightning problem.

Clint doubted the Initiative would find them by tomorrow morning. And the evil voice inside his own mind wondered if the Initiative would find them, period. But those thoughts were for another day.

Today, Clint wasn't even capable of building them a shelter. If there were predators in this place, and if Loki and he were so unlucky to be turned to dog food or turtle food before morning, then so be it.

Right now, he just needed to pass out. And he actually wondered how come he was still awake, staring at the pitch black of the sky shot with stars throughout. For a split second, he actually regretted never reading into celestial navigation and boat building, but all it took him was one look to the side to know just presenting the idea to Loki would be akin to suicide.

They were going to be found. The Initiative was going to find them. Jim had assured Clint that the base knew their location. They were going to be rescued. Before Loki died and Thor fried Clint's ass.

They were going to be rescued.

* * *

Morning (which was a lot closer to afternoon, by the sun's position) reminded Clint exactly why not trying to find shelter last night was a very, very stupid idea. He woke up to a soaring headache and a feeling like his skin was going to fall off. Not to mention the fact that his mouth felt like parched sandpaper. And even then, he glanced to the side to where Loki used to be. But Loki wasn't there any more.

Clint panicked for a second, but right now the most important thing was getting himself to shade. He got up, looked at his arms, which were red and burning painfully. How fucking stupid was he, anyway? Not like he hadn't been trained for all of this.

And of course, trust Loki to have woken up somewhere during the night and dragged himself to the shade. He was sleeping, squeezed into a ball around Clint's backpack, a surprisingly tiny ball of human flesh and bones which Clint was actually tempted to kick with his foot. But he didn't. He'd never been much of a type to kick somebody already on the ground. Even if that somebody dissected him from the inside out once upon a time.

He decided to take the backpack instead. There wasn't much inside of the things that brought him comfort. Just food and weaponry, survival and camping items, a first aid box. No bow and arrows, and Clint already felt his fingers twitch for his favourite weapon.

Loki did stir once Clint grabbed the backpack, but he didn't move much.

Not until Clint pulled out a water flask and decided to be selfish for once. Dear lord, _water_. He was tempted to drink all of it, but he knew better. He remembered an experiment their training officer once told them about, how some scientists put dogs inside cages and shot random electric pulses, shocking the animals. If they kept on doing this, the dogs would give up on living. But if they gave the dogs a chance to escape, then they were willing to endure a lot more.

This? This water flask? This was Clint's open cage door and he certainly wasn't about to share it.

"If I had the slightest idea..." Clint heard Loki whisper.

He actually bothered smiling around the mouth of the flask. And then he screwed it shut and stuffed it in his backpack. Loki shot him a look that would have been murderous if Loki didn't actually look like an oversized kid, with his eyes puffy and hair flying in all directions. Granted, the blood loss and obvious shivers from the fever certainly destroyed the image, if only a bit. "That'll teach you to leave me out in the sun."

"I was hot," Loki said.

"And delirious, I bet," Clint added with a snort. In any normal circumstance, he would not be willing to clash wit with someone like Loki, but this was not a normal circumstance. If he stopped this and actually thought about their situation, then that would require him to take into consideration the fact that half his body was sunburnt, Loki was probably suffering from an infection and anemia, they were stuck in the middle of nowhere with only a half empty water flask, dehydrated rations and some weapons, and nobody knew where the hell they were.

Loki's only response was an eyebrow quirk.

Clint decided to force his body to take a deep, relaxing breath. "Okay," he said. "God only knows when we'll be rescued." Or whether whatever idiot that attacked their plane actually realised they hadn't finished the job. "We're both battered and broken and I'm certain you're in no better mood than I am." He thought about offering a smile. Those used to work, on regular people. Clint could read them well and behave accordingly. Loki was much harder to read and Clint was certain he was no fool to be pacified by empty social gestures. And besides, Clint really didn't feel like smiling, no matter how fake it would be. "If we're gonna make it, we need to stick together. And _work_ together." He waited for Loki to weigh this through, to realise that he wasn't going to survive on his own, not without his powers, and well...

Eventually, Loki made a small nod, and it almost broke Clint's heart to see just how much of a defeat Loki considered it. So much of the whole, _he's my brother, please protect him_, that Thor offered a few days back.

"Now, take your clothes off." For a second there, Clint actually thought Loki was going to start a fire under his ass with that look alone. But nothing happened. So Clint fought not to roll his eyes. Again. "I know what your father did-"

"He's _not_ my father," Loki interrupted.

_And again_. Clint got up to his feet. "Look, I really don't give a shit." It was an expression that at least offered Loki some sort of a rope to hold onto. A puzzle to solve while adapting to conditions his how many thousands of years of experience certainly did not prepare him for. But he was also too proud to ask for an elaboration. Which was a good reason for Clint to continue his little monologue. "I know your little secret. I know your magic's been taken away from you. Now take your clothes off or I will."

"By the Tree, has dear Fandral descended to Midgard just to teach you all his secrets?" Clint didn't get it, but from Loki's voice he knew it was a joke. Or as much as Loki was capable of telling it, considering he was weaker than he gave himself credit for. But he did obey and Clint pulled out the bottle of antiseptic from his bag.

* * *

Loki wasn't hurt as much. Well, he was. Or at least he had been. Clint found a few already forming scars, several bruises that probably looked ghastly before they started healing. The gash on his arm was already closed and there was no sign of infection. But there was a much larger one at the outer side of Loki's leg. It seemed as healthy as they made them, but it caused Loki troubles when walking.

Troubles which were going to dissipate in two days anyway.

Whatever hit Loki in the back of his head yesterday, Clint had no idea, but all that remained was a painful bump and hair full of dried blood and reddened salt.

Clint's very own god of mischief was going to be alright. While Clint was stuck dipping his shirt into the ocean every half an hour to cool his burning skin. It didn't seem fair. And what seemed even less fair was the fact that he _did_ have sunscreen in his bag. The only problem was that he wasn't conscious enough to use it.

At least he was unharmed. Unlike Loki (no matter _father's unfair judgement_, as Thor had provided, making sure he sounded highly disappointed), who obviously wasn't a just a mere mortal, Clint didn't have the privilege of getting harmed and surviving it.

This should teach him to pack a satellite phone next time. A waterproof, _explosion_ proof satellite phone. He knew Jim had one. Except, Jim wasn't around. And Clint missed him already.

"I hope you are done feasting your eyes," he said and Clint promptly stepped back, pulling his eyes away.

"I do apologise for wanting to make sure you don't die on me, your majesty," he said with enough sarcasm dripping from his voice that Loki didn't even bother commenting on it. Short of a scoff and wrinkling of his nose in disgust. "But right now we have more pressing matters," Clint continued. Loki looked at him in a way that left no doubt in Clint mind that the man had no idea what that meant. So much for being a god and all. "Building a shelter, getting food, finding fresh water, getting us off the sun." He stopped when Loki just looked at him. "You didn't do much camping as a kid, did you?"

Loki glared and Clint snorted. Figures.

"How the hell did your kind get such a reputation as fearless warriors if they don't know the basis of wild survival?"

"I never said my," Loki paused, obviously trying to find a way around that word, "_kind_ doesn't know how to survive in the wild. It's simply that my methods are a lot more effective."

"What, like magic?" Clint asked. Loki looked like he was actually going to shrug, but he stopped himself quickly enough. "Thought so. Well here, you'll be pulling your weight or seeing how long your body survives before succumbing to dehydration."

"I liked you better when you were avoiding speaking with me," was all that Loki offered before silently joining Clint in finding a place to stay that would protect them from the elements.

Clint thought about responding to that. Say something akin to Clint liking Loki hell of a lot better before Loki tried to get inside his mind and succeeded at it. But this was not the time or the place for this. All that mattered here was survival.

And unfortunately, a lot more for Clint than for Loki. Because trust the bastard not to be as susceptible to wounds and the elements as Clint originally feared. Trust his family not to simply shun him for his attempted genocide over the mere bugs that were... how did they call them? Midgardians? Right.

Clint was unworthy to be Loki's equal, and yet Loki followed him around quietly, hiding his derision behind an expressionless mask like a fucking prince. At least he was still limping, so Clint could live with the fact that there was some justice in this world.

Loki seemed in a hurry to put his shirt back on. Even though Clint hadn't realised how tense Loki had been a minute ago, the way he visibly relaxed was hard to miss. And Clint knew there was something about Loki being different. He'd never paid that much attention to what Thor had to say about their family matters, but there was an obvious dislike that Thor and his kind showed towards Loki. Something them stupid Midgardians had a name for - racism. And Clint was not even remotely interested in explaining that word to either of the brothers. Or whatever they were.

This behaviour just proved that, whatever was wrong with Loki, he thought Clint could see it too. And Clint really didn't give a damn, but it was hard to stay angry that much at someone who seemed willing to berate himself so visibly over the way he looked. Or thought he looked. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, Loki and someone Loki considered only slightly more worthy than a bug. And yet when Loki looked at Clint, it was judgement he feared. Judgement which Clint was too tired to try and dissect in his own mind.

"Oh, there's a small stream uphill," Loki said then, folding his arms over his chest as though his shirt was all too dear to him and he feared having to take it off again.

Clint squinted his eyes, looking above the trees, before he turned his eyes back onto Loki. "How would you know that?"

"I can smell it," Loki said and again he sounded so superior, like he was addressing someone unworthy. Like Clint was so below him he had to be happy Loki even acknowledged him. So the mask was back on, and it fit perfectly. "What? Can't you?"

Okay. Scratch that. Clint had every right to be pissed with the bastard.


End file.
